


In the circle of your arms

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of drifting, Arthur and Eames buy a house together; it will be a home because the other will be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the circle of your arms

It was Mal who had told them about the idea of totems. It was a good idea, one Arthur wished he had thought of years ago. A way to ground yourself in reality; something terribly important when you worked in the world of dreams, especially the way that extractors were going deeper and deeper now, dreams within dreams within dreams. It was all too easy to get lost.

Arthur had been wondering for days what he should choose for a totem but he couldn’t think of something unique enough. When he had told Eames of his frustration last night he had laughed, teased him for his lack of imagination, goaded him into showing him that he did, in fact, have plenty of imagination; at least when it came to sex. A ghost of a smile flickered over Arthur’s lips as he remembered the way that Eames’s eyes had widened; the startled, breathless moans.

“Hello, darling.” Arthur looked up to see that Eames had finally arrived, dressed in a blue-and-cream striped shirt with the top three buttons open and well-tailored navy trousers. It was a delectable combination and Arthur let his eyes rove over him for a prolonged moment, enjoying the way the shirt showed off his broad chest. “What were you thinking about,” Eames asked, lips curving into a sexy grin, “to be smiling like that?”

“Last night,” Arthur said as Eames sat beside him, shifting to try and get comfortable on the small plastic chair before giving up.

“Ah. Then I can understand the smile.” He leaned closer to Arthur so that he could feel his breath on his cheek. “You’re a kinky thing when you want to be, love,” he whispered as he stroked a finger down his thigh.

Arthur felt a blush heating his cheeks and pushed the images that sprang up into the part of his mind marked ‘later’.

“You’re late,” he said, forcing the conversation back to something more appropriate for a public space.

“Looks like the estate agent is even later, so what does it matter?”

“Punctuality matters, Eames. And in America he’s called a realtor.”

Eames ignored the jibe about his dialect. “I have a reason for being late; I was making something for you.”

“Oh?” Arthur glanced up at him. Eames often made things for him; as well as being a forger in dreams he was still one in real life as well and that gave him all kinds of creative skills. Usually he just left the gift on Arthur’s pillow for him to find when they went to bed: cufflinks, a rose made from a newspaper, poems written in an elegant looping script. Eames’s mysteriousness about this particular gift piqued Arthur’s interest.

“Later,” Eames said, nodding to indicate someone was approaching.

The realtor introduced herself as Amanda and proved herself to be most efficient. After reviewing their requirements she had four viewings booked for them. As they drove over to the first house, Arthur felt that anything would be fine. He was sick of living out of hotels; he wanted to settle down. It was dangerous for anyone involved in extraction to have a fixed place of abode but they had been without a base - without a _home_ \- for too long, ever since they left their New York apartment - almost two years ago now.

As they looked at the first house, Arthur felt uninspired. Everything was pleasant enough but nothing spoke to him until a photograph in the living room reminded him of why he had always wanted to live on the coast.

“Do any of the houses have a view of the ocean?”

Amanda’s dark eyes flickered to him, annoyed. “That wasn’t mentioned in your forms.”

“I’m sorry. But I really would like a view.”

“We’re in San Fransisco,” Eames said, coming to his rescue and putting an arm over his shoulders. “It can’t be that hard to find a house with a sea view.”

In the end, Amanda had smiled over her annoyance and called the office. A place had just come up, way over budget but Amanda insisted it was a must-see.

And it was. A large, well laid-out garden and an outdoor pool, four bedrooms, open plan living/kitchen area downstairs and built-in bookcases everywhere. Best of all, the garden had a spectacular view of the sea. Arthur had grown up in a land-locked state and had wanted to live beside the ocean since a family trip to Cape Cod at the age of eight. This was perfect.

Eames knew Arthur well enough to read his expression because he chuckled and kissed his cheek. “You want it, don’t you?”

“...Yes.”

“We can cash in our bonds,” Eames said, looking over at the realtor who was carefully not-watching them. “Sell the apartment. We can afford it.”

They didn’t have bonds to cash nor did they still own the apartment. What they did have was a Cayman islands bank account that would just about cover the price of the house, but it wouldn’t leave much left for living.

“Come on, love,” Eames whispered in his ear, seeing his indecision. “I can see how much you want this place. Be reckless. Take a leap of faith.”

Arthur’s eyes met Eames’s, saw the warmth and tenderness in them and felt himself begin to thaw.

“I’ll look after you,” Eames promised. “I’ll take the next job that comes up, no matter how dull it is. We’ll be fine.”

“You’d take a dull job for me?”A teasing smile curved Arthur’s lips.

“Anything to make you smile, darling. Is that a yes?” Arthur gave the tiniest of nods and Eames broke into a grin and turned to Amanda, who was trying her best to appear as if she wasn’t trying to listen in to their conversation. “We’ll take it.”  
===  
When they went to bed that night there was something on the cream cotton of Arthur’s pillow and he recalled being told of a gift. He picked up the small, red object and frowned. It was a die, made from transparent plastic with white spots. He had no idea of the significance and eventually he looked up at Eames and quirked his eyebrow.

“Thank you but... I give up. What is it?”

“It’s a die.”

When Arthur gave him a long, unimpressed stare, Eames chuckled and came up beside him, taking the die from his fingers. He rolled it; it came up three. Rolled it again, came up three. Again, again, again; three every time.

Eames turned to Arthur. “Get it?”

“It’s a loaded die,” Arthur said, still not understanding the significance.

Eames looked at him for a long moment then sighed. “It’s a totem. You couldn’t think of one so I made you one. Made myself one too.” From his pocket he withdrew a poker chip in matching red-and-white. When he handed it to Arthur, he could feel that it was weighted on one side. It was decorated with tiny pips, two of each suit, and writing on each side.

“Why is the spelling on this side atrocious?”

“Because,” Eames said, taking the poker chip from Arthur and putting it onto the surface next to the die, “When you spin it, every time it will fall to show the correct side up. I decided to put my dyslexia to good use.” He demonstrated and it clattered to a stop, right side up, next to the red die.

“They look good together,” Arthur said, gazing at the totems.

“So do we.” Eames pulled Arthur around so that they could see themselves in the mirror and Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “You know,” Eames said, hands snaking around Arthur’s waist to undo his belt buckle. “We could put this mirror to good use.”

Eames’s hands slipped into his waistband and Arthur’s breath hitched. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“True,” Arthur said, turning to push Eames down onto the bed. Soon they would be able to do this in their new home, christen every room and claim it as their own.

In truth, while Arthur loved the house and couldn’t wait to move in, _home_ was much simpler than that.

As long as he was with Eames, he was home.


End file.
